


Hawke and Fenris in Fifty Sentences

by IanLeStraud



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Little things, Romance, Secrets, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanLeStraud/pseuds/IanLeStraud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Fenris are a couple of dynamics and ever-changing seas. Still, everyone has those little moments, and even in a city of burned-out ruin and zealots, they manage to hold onto something that is bigger than either of them. The sum of their parts, sometimes, is greater than each could ever hope to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawke and Fenris in Fifty Sentences

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I have no beta, and this is a compilation of multiple bored class periods. Let me know what you think? There is always room to improve :3

Hawke and Fenris in 50 Sentences

 

Tumblr prompt:

“Fifty sentences. Describe all the little moments between Hawke and Fenris. Kudos if it’s from Fenris’s pov. Go!”

 

**#1 Dawn**

As the dawn is precluded before the day, so she walks in front of him, untouchable, bathed in light.

 

**#2 Promises**

The definitiveness of those born to be avenged is not so much a venture as it is an utterance, promises whispered, unredressed, in the darkness of night; promising retribution.

 

**#3 Cry**

It is so slight he almost misses it, the silver track of moisture down her cheek, dusty save the meandering trace. It is longer before he grasps it, pulls the thread out into the light to ponder over. He wonders why she was crying – and then winces sharply as he realizes it was for him.

 

**#4 Seheron**

She moves like a jungle cat, darting into the shadows and back to sink her daggers into the flesh of the latest victim to come across her path.

 

**#5 Awestruck**

He finds himself in awe of her, and more often than not she shows up behind him, daggers bloody and mouth curled into a feral grin, looting through the pockets of the raider that had snuck up behind.

 

**#6 By My Side**

He wakes up clutching at his chest, fending off the reaching arms, suffocating in their grasp. And he rolls over and – she is there.

 

**#7 Contact**

He wonders if he will ever be able to look in the depths of her eyes again and not see the hurt there.

 

**#8 Wine Soaked**

He steals glances at her from across the table when she isn’t looking; a pale thigh there, a rosy cheek and mouth here. She looks over at him and their eyes meet for the first time in months; he looks down into his cup of wine, red like blood.

 

**#9 My Heart**

He is holding her freezing body to his, water beading on his shirt and running down in rivulets from her wet hair. And he thinks, she must survive this. His heart beats for hers as much as she fights to keep hers beating for him, sharing warmth, and life, with each other.

 

**#10 Steel**

He sometimes wishes there wasn’t so much armor in between the two of them.

 

**#11 Firsts**

The first time he sees her, wild and untamed on the prow of Isabela’s ship, is the first time he knows he loves her.

 

**#12 Touch**

What he cannot say he reaffirms in gentle touches, a feather-soft squeeze of her hand, the slight brushing of their shoulders, the flicker of a smile he saves only for her.

 

**#13 Fire**

He thinks --she is dangerous-- and yet he cannot help but wonder, what it would be like to sit by her side and feel the warmth there, to not be scorned by the flickering light; drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

 

**#14 Dog**

Her mabari is a vicious creature, an extension of the soul that runs hot through her veins, and his veins; and yet the same creature that can tear out someone’s throat also knows the love between two, the confounded adoration that Fenris feels for his Hawke.

 

**#15 Shadows**

She steps out of the dark and his breath catches; even with her hair disheveled and dress torn – she is beautiful.

 

**#16 Trellises**

His body is as broken and torn as his soul, bleeding and tender and altogether too much for one person to bear alone. This, he thinks, is why he sought her out that night. Because she, too, is broken and twisted, and their jagged edges soothe the sting of promises made and not kept.

 

**#17 Dove**

It is a soft and gentle creature, this new thing between them, and coos like a newborn dove who has never seen the horrors life brings to their doors.

 

**#18 Silver**

His hair is silver, like gossamer, like gold; and yet when he looks in the mirror he sometimes sees black, like Hawke’s, like his soul.

 

**#19 Stars**

He is fire, and she is ice, and how is it that they can love so futilely it all but consumes them both? His ashes and her shards will be all that is left when this is said and done.

 

**#20 Rough**

She is a storm, and in the bloody haze of battle he sees her and thinks wildly of warm jungles and surf against sand.

 

**#21 Midas**

He realizes now, with starting clarity, that everything he touches; dies.

 

**#22 Breathe**

She steals his breath more often then he would like to admit.

 

**#23 May I Have this Dance**

Hawke loves to go dancing. When Anders’ hands rest a little to low on Hawke’s waist, it bothers him. He doesn’t realize until later that that was the point it became clear he would stay with her, as long as she needed.

 

**#24 Dragoness**

It is only when she turns away from him that he realizes how much he has grown to love her fire.

 

**#25 Dreams and Monsters**

When she wakes screaming, reaching for the siblings she couldn’t save, he is there to hold her close.

 

**#26 Lost and Found**

He knows she will always be there for him.

 

**#27 Rival Wolf**

Zevran makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

 

**#28 Vacation**

If he could take her away from here, he would. But her stubbornness and her pride will stand in her way until the ground crumbles under her feet and the city burns from the inside out.

 

**#29 Stained**

There is a shadow, dark like lace stained with wine. He does not think even Leandra could starch her clean again. She is wrung red with bloody water, seen too much to ever go back to the little girl that left Fereldan.

 

**#30 Layers**

He sees flashes of golden hair in his dreams, perhaps someone he knew, someone he loved. And yet when he compares the gold with Hawke’s pitch, he cannot help but notice that hers is black silk, fragile but strong, like ice, like the woman underneath.

 

**#31 Dreaming**

When she appears in his foggy memories, standing in the kitchen with Varania and his mother, he knows it could not be true. How much he would’ve given to have known her then, before Kirkwall robbed her of her childhood and her dreams.

 

**#32 Making Up**

It is the only thing standing between her and him, and when Danarius is dead and his hands are bloody he takes her in his arms and kisses her.

 

**#33 Little Winged Wolves**

When he holds Aveline’s swaddled babe, looking for all the world like a scared rabbit, it is all she can do to keep from laughing. And when Aveline sidles up next to her and talks about babies, Hawke just smiles and says “perhaps…”

 

**#34 Letters to You**

He leaves a note for her in the Hanged Man, after she teaches him to write; not with Corff or Nora’s prying eyes but under the leg of her favorite chair – well-worn, tarnished with dirt and wine, but lovely just the same.

 

**#35 Elusive**

The sky scuds black with rain and thunder, somewhere, Hawke and Fenris run from the ruins of a burned-out Chantry and the city of chains that brought them together.

 

**#36 Breathtaking**

The sun is streaming through a pair of red velvet curtains, faded with age and highlighting dust on worn furniture, Hawke’s hair is tousled on the pillow next to him – he cannot bring himself to wake her.

 

**#37 Ghosts**

Her handwriting is scratchy, bleeding across the page in a flurry of half-formed letters, the woman who wrote them in too much of a hurry to care. He traces each letter carefully, with one finger, thinking that she does not understand the gravity of simply being able to think and remember, to have records, to be able to share your words with the people to come.

 

**#38 Angels’ Grace**

His words are graceful, like water, rippling across the page in arching swooping lines of black ink. She touches the edge of the page in reverence, noticing that he copied her badly-scribbled note to Bodhan about being late for dinner – something about hats and Isabela – and wonders why he did not write words of his own, did not write something beautiful like the letters implied. She tucks this tidbit of information away for later, slipping his note between the pages of an old book. Some things are too precious to not save.

 

**#39 Aubade**

He knows more than she lets on, but when he finds her crying, alone in a house of darkness and hate, he curls next to her – bare toes dripping rainwater on the expensive Antivan rug – and asks her why. She cries some more and holds him close, and they both know it is not why, but thank you.

 

**#40 Rivalry**

The years after Bethany died were the hardest for Hawke. She whispered through town, step light and heart heavy, barely holding together at the seams so much so that even the Arishok commented. His deep rumbling voice had echoed across the courtyard with a question; Hawke had turned, wild-eyed, to announce that her _kadan_ was dead. The warlord paused, golden jewelry rippling in the light, and – had apologized. – She did not even notice. Someday, when she faced down two pairs of branching horns dripping with gold jewelry, she would notice - she would remember.

 

**#41 Between the Eyes**

The Imperium will fall, the slaves will revolt – Hawke knows this, and Varric knows this, even though Anders may be a mage he is not so blind. Until then, Fenris will watch… and wait.

 

**#42 Flurries**

The first snowfall is as much of a shock to Fenris as it is a delight to Hawke, and when a compact lump of snow impacts squarely to his face and clings to his hair, the look of feigned outrage and betrayal is enough to make Hawke snort with laughter.

 

**#43 Brilliance**

Hawke is brilliance, the darkness of her echoes faintly of sun. She does not bring the dark, as he feared – she brings the dawn.

 

**#44 Andraste**

She makes him miserable, her laugh and Anders’ sharp eyes boil his blood and rush in his tapered ears; drowning out everything but her like he is a man dying and she is his salvation.

 

**#45 She Knows**

Kirkwall’s summer is a blistering thing, it scalds his feet and his temper. Hawke notices his limping – and as usual – he denies her. But when they take a break from the oppressive summer on a shadowed bluff near Sundermount, she sits down next to him and slips a pair of well-worn boots onto his cracked feet, spreading a gooey salve onto the bottoms first, and he cannot bring himself to complain.

 

**#46 On the Third Day**

He sees one glimpse of her, eyes wide and unseeing before Aveline slams the door shut in his face and the blue magic of Anders’ healing can be seen, even through the crack at the bottom. He wanders away, eyes glazed, not seeing or thinking until her mabari lets out a soft growl. Fenris stoops, holding the dog as they wait for the woman they love to fight her way back.

 

**#47 Tunnel**

They run from the city and their not-so-checkered past, running to a future that both can see but cannot touch, one filled with promises and where all people can walk in the sun without fear.

 

**#48 Sisters**

He is not sure he would’ve liked Carver, if he met him now, but Bethany was sweet and lovely and the opposite of Hawke; whose heart he held under lock and key, safe inside his chest.

 

**#49 Secret Messages**

Fenris always thought Varric had an eye on Hawke, but when he announces his impending engagement it surprises everyone but the winged devil. And when they run, Varric will tell her story. Such is the way.

 

**#50 Legends**

So let this be her song, her tale the bards spin years from now in worn-out taverns full of dusty wine and dustier men. They can tell of the heroics of a woman named Hawke and the Grey Warden Queen, it seems Fereldan has always bred strong women. Still, they will never know the after, the part where Hawke is swept off her feet by none other than a white-furred wolf, and how said wolf smiles. Some secrets they will never know.


End file.
